


Maintaining Losses

by LuxObscura



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bloodplay, Come Eating, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Kneeling, Knifeplay, M/M, Sub Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxObscura/pseuds/LuxObscura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HYDRA takes their memories and their names, but can't change their most basic natures.  Or:  Steve bleeds for Bucky and Bucky suffers for Steve and Alexander Pierce has it all on tape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maintaining Losses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Foxsuke (ShadowRese)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowRese/gifts).



> Thanks to my betas for listening to me yell about this story and also for assuring me that it made sense, thank you to Stoat for running the exchange, and thank _you_ for being here.
> 
> Please heed the tags.

Asset Bravo is malfunctioning again.  Given the circumstances of their acquisition and training there is a certain amount of … _flexibility_ built into their protocols, but Bravo’s latest behaviors have been erratic beyond what protocol allows for. Asset Alpha feels a heaviness in his chest ( _probability of cardiac event: less than 2%_ ) as he stares through the two way mirror into Bravo’s holding cell. Bravo is pacing erratically, starting and stopping mid-stride, staring at the door, the mirror, clenching and unclenching his fists, pausing, moving towards the door, then the mirror, staring up at the cameras, jaw tightening, back to pacing.

Asset Alpha watches in silence.  Behind him there are voices, the electric blue glow of computers, the hum of hushed conversation and cooling fans.  He catalogues it all in the brain, reacts to none of it.  None of it matters until…  Until.

The voice is smooth, commanding without being demanding.  The speaker doesn’t have to demand — obedience to this voice has been seared into their brains since day one of assignment.  “Asset Alpha.  Recap of your mission report.” 

“Sir.” Alpha nods in deference but doesn’t turn, cannot look away from Bravo.  “While on the ground we were attempting to cross the mountains through the pass, as per the briefing.  Heavy snow, low visibility but on track and on time.  Asset Bravo became unstable, acted erratically, appeared to be questioning the mission, began asking _questions_ that violate protocol.  I made the call to pull us out.”

“You should have stayed behind to finish the mission.  Your chances of success without Asset Bravo were diminished but still within acceptable parameters.  We may have lost our chance to destabilize the whole region.” 

Alpha crosses his hands in front of him, left hand whirring and clicking, squeezing the right wrist until his bones grind against each other and pain shoots up his fingers. He can break his own wrist this way — they’ve made him do it before.  “Orders?”

The director exhales, short and sharp, blue eyes flicking from Bravo to Alpha.  “Calm him down.  Get him back in the chair, any means necessary.”

Alpha begins to nod, and then—

“And make it good, asset. Do you understand me?”

He finds himself speared by bright, clear eyes.  So like… so like…

The director is waiting.

Alpha turns a quarter turn, faces the director and nods sharply.  “I understand.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

The note of warning in the director’s voice makes Alpha grind his teeth together. As soon as he’s out the door, Alpha snarls at the rest of the people milling around the observation room. “ _Out_.” There’s a split second of silence before people are hurriedly gathering up papers, coffee cups, tablets and other detritus.  He takes a few menacing steps towards the stragglers, nearly closing the last one out in the heavy blast door.  He pauses in front of a workstation and stares at the screen for a few precious seconds before he drops heavily in the chair.  The cell and observation room go on lockdown and all camera feeds are diverted to the director’s private secure server.

_Make it good, asset._

He leans towards the microphone and pushes the button to transmit.

“S-“ He stutters on the first syllable, presses his lips together in annoyance and tries again.  “Steve?  Stevie? It’s me.”

Asset Bravo’s head jerks around to stare at the mirror, eyes wide and pained.

“Bucky?”

He hates this, hates the memories he’s been allowed to keep, memories without context, without any narrative to explain why his blood quickens and his skin prickles every time they… Every time.  “Yeah pal.  I’m coming in, ok?  Don’t rearrange my face when I open the door.”  He stands, exits the obs room, securing the blast door behind him, walks quickly into the deserted hallway and then stops outside the door to the holding cell. Stillness is elusive and it irritates him because he can lie prone for hours, staring down and scope and barely breathing, but now every muscle inside of him is drawn tight and trembling. Useless.  He punches a code into the keypad in the wall and lets the mechanism scan his retina.  The door unlocks with a _clunk_ and the asset slides it open.  _Make it good_. 

St- _Asset Bravo_ is waiting in front of the door, tense and wary. Alpha holds his hands up, palms out. He’s turned in all his guns and explosives but he’s still got his knives on him and the arm itself is a heavy weapon, but it’s a classic gesture and he still isn’t sure how deep Bravo’s malfunction has run at this point.

“ _Bucky_.”  Bravo’s fingers unclench and his shoulders drop.  “Something—“  His eyes lock on to Alpha’s left arm and he grimaces.  “You.  Is that? I knew you had that but you didn’t always?”  His brow furrows in frustration.  “There’s something wrong in my head, Buck.  I thought. I was ready to tear the door off but, your voice.  There was a train. Snow?”   The delicate skin around his eyes creases with wrinkles and he looks pained.

Alpha lowers his hands slowly, holds them out to Bravo, palms still facing up.  His stomach feels heavy, twisted, wrong.  There’s arousal slithering down in his groin, hot and shameful. He hates himself and the skin on his palm tingles in anticipation of Bravo taking his hands. He always— they always.

“Steve, listen to me, all right?  There was a plane crash, a long time ago.  You were hurt real bad, but we found you.  Pulled you out, put you back right.  But sometimes, things happen and you get real confused.  It’s ok though. I’m here, I’m gonna help you. You just have to trust me, do what I say.”

Bravo reaches out, fingertips brushing Alpha’s palms for a few seconds before his hands settle. Alpha gently wraps his fingers around them.

“That’s right.” Alpha rubs his thumbs gently over the edges of Bravo’s hands.  “Do what I say and I’m gonna take everything away, Stevie; the confusion, fear, I’m gonna take it all and there’s gonna be nothing left in your head but me, nothing on your skin but what I put there, nothing inside you that I don’t leave behind. And then, when it’s all quiet we’re gonna sleep for a little while, yeah?”

Bravo nods, his eyes clearing, flicking across every rise and hollow of Alpha’s face.

“Do you trust me, Stevie?”

“Yeah, Buck. I do.”

Alpha leans forward, clamps down on the feelings of right/wrong roiling in his gut, stills the trembling, ignores the disgust, blocks the jarring dissonance that’s beginning to vibrate in the back of his skull, leans in and in until Bravo’s breath is warm and light on his lips, leans in and presses his lips to Steve’s — warm, gentle, and so, so brief.  Bucky leans back so that Steve can feel his breath, the movement of his lips when he speaks. “Take off all your clothes. Kneel.  I’m gonna make you forget everything except me.”

Steve is reluctant in letting go of Bucky’s hands, but Bucky stands firm, pulling back when Steve leans in to kiss him again.  Steve’s eyes search Bucky’s face and Bucky allows him — allows _them_ —  this indulgence. After a too long/too short moment, Steve pulls his hands away from Bucky’s and begins undressing, buckles and zippers and snaps undone with efficiency and precision, gear neatly folded and stacked to the side.  Steve stands naked, pale, muscled, still tense but no longer with each muscle pulled tight and shaking.  Bucky locks his eyes with Steve’s and when Steve kneels Bucky isn’t sure it’s because he wants to or because he’s being borne down by the weight of Bucky’s gaze.

Bucky strips out of his jacket and shirt before stepping up to Steve, running his right hand through Steve’s hair.  Steve shudders, looks at the ground, looks up at Bucky.

“Steve. Feels like you’re not trustin’ me here. If this is gonna work, you gotta. If you can’t—“ Bucky slides his hand down Steve’s jaw line and grips his chin, digs his thumb and fingers in hard enough to make Steve wince, forcing Steve’s jaw open.  Bucky lets go abruptly and Steve moves to raise a hand to rub at his bruised cheek.  Bucky hisses at him in warning.  Steve’s brow furrows and he shifts on his knees, frowning.  Bucky knows that look, knows when Steve’s about to go all mulish and that’s about when Bucky will lose control of this situation and if he loses control— Bucky very deliberately does not look at any of the seven cameras in the room.  Instead he reaches for the sheath at his thigh and pulls out a short, sharp knife, all once piece of solid steel with a ring at the base of the handle.  He presses the point into the apple of Steve’s cheek.  Steve stills, eyes locked on Bucky.  One red drop of blood is welling up around the point of the knife.

“It’s easier when it hurts a little, yeah?  Gives you something to focus on besides all the noise in your head.”  Bucky’s working with his left hand, opening his pants, pushing them off his hips.  The outline of his half-hard cock is visible through his underwear and he sees Steve look at it before looking back up at Bucky’s face.  Steve has a flush starting, high on his cheeks.  “Yeah?” is all Bucky says. 

Steve leans forward gingerly, mindful of the knife still dangerously close to his eye. Bucky moves with him, letting Steve lean forward until he’s nosing up against Bucky through his underwear. The feel of hot breath on his cock sends a new rush of blood down his length and god, Steve’s barely touched him but he already feels a little dizzy with want.  Steve mouths at him over the fabric, leaving little wet marks in his wake, working his way up to the skin of Bucky’s stomach. Steve presses one tender kiss there before delicately taking the waistband of Bucky’s underwear in his teeth, and working with a single-minded determination, pulling the elastic of his underwear down under his balls, brushing his cheek down the length of Bucky’s cock in the process.  Bucky breathes slowly through his nose, keeps his hand steady on the knife even as Steve moves. The heat of Steve’s blush transfers directly to Bucky’s skin and he can feel himself growing hotter and heavier. Steve draws back just enough to look up at Bucky and Bucky knows that question in Steve’s eyes. He moves the knife away, and the drop of blood it pinned in place slips slowly down Steve’s cheek like a tear, leaving a wake of wet red behind it.  Bucky tangles his fingers in Steve’s short hair and gives it a warning tug. Steve’s mouth drops open and Bucky nudges the tip of his cock against Steve’s lips, flushed red with blood. Steve’s tongue darts out to lick at the tip of Bucky’s cock and something in Bucky _gives_. He uses his grip on Steve’s hair to pull Steve in close, feed Steve his entire cock in one quick slide.

The sensation of Steve gagging, his throat spasming around the sudden intrusion, Steve’s tongue working frantically at the underside of Bucky’s cock, Steve’s hot breath through the rough hair above Bucky’s cock, Steve’s desperate noises as he tries to accommodate Bucky, to bring his body back under control, all these things make Bucky lose himself for a second, and for a second he’s somewhere else, still with Steve, always Steve but…

Steve’s pained whimper sends delicious vibrations down Bucky’s cock and snaps him back to the now — the now where he has the knife pressed under Steve’s jaw, where Steve’s throat is tightening around Bucky as he continues to block his airway, with Steve’s with his lips stretched around the base of his cock and drool shining on his chin.  Bucky holds Steve there a few seconds more, letting the heat from Steve’s mouth warm up his blood.

Bucky backs off just enough to let Steve get a few full, whistling breaths through his nose, nostrils flaring as he sucks in air.  The grip in Steve’s hair shifts, the joints in the metal catching and pulling hair out at the root, and then Bucky’s guiding Steve forward again, pressing his entire length into the wet, tight heat of Steve’s throat, groaning a little at the squeeze and flutter around his cock.  The knife in his grip slides down Steve’s jaw and Bucky can’t say if it’s care or carelessness that presses just enough to part skin, leaving a fine line of blood from Steve’s ear down under his chin.  Bucky presses the flat of the blade to Steve’s throat and this time he groans outright at the feeling of pressure _through_ Steve’s flesh.  The air smells like sweat and iron and salt.  He fucks Steve’s face in short, sharp strokes, drawing farther back occasionally to let Steve get in a gulp of air but mostly he keeps Steve there, breathless, throat spasming, tongue working the sensitive underside of his cock.

“Oh fuck, Steve, fuck yes, you’re so good like this.  Don’t worry, Stevie, I’m gonna make you feel so good, so good for me. Just…  Just—“  And then Steve tightens his lips around the base of Bucky’s dick and _sucks_ , hard and long and Bucky’s done, balls tightening, toes curling in his boots, his orgasm rolling up through him so fast it’s almost a shock how soon he’s  coming down Steve’s throat, feeling him cough and gag as he tries to swallow but can’t, come and spit leaking out around his lips and down his chin.  Bucky steps back, his softening dick sliding out from between Steve’s red, swollen lips.  Steve tries to slump forward but Bucky rolls the knife in his hand so that the edge is pressed hard against Steve’s throat.  Steve freezes.

“Uh-uh.” The metal hand untangles itself from Steve’s hair and comes down to cup Steve’s chin briefly. Bucky swipes two fingers around Steve’s mouth, picking up come and saliva and a little blood from the cut on Steve’s cheek and feeds it to Steve, two metal fingers pushing gently but firmly into Steve’s mouth.  “Suck.”

Steve does. Bucky’s fingers register heat and pressure and the sinuous slide of Steve’s tongue.  Bucky cleans Steve’s face this way, scrape, slide, scrape, slide until there’s no trace of Bucky’s come on his face.

Steve’s still a little breathless when Bucky pushes him back and down onto the hard concrete floor with Steve ending propped on his elbows, legs stretched out and spread slightly. Now Bucky notices the flush has spread from Steve’s cheeks and down his chest.  His cock is interested too, the head red and wet, poking out of the foreskin. Bucky flips the knife to his left hand and crouches over Steve so he can put skin on skin, his right hand tracing Steve’s chin, trailing gently down his chest, over his stomach but stopping before his groin.  Bucky allows himself this little indulgence, this little thing that is not in the plan because… because he _wants_ , and the want is tight in his chest, separate from arousal and a different sensation entirely. He _wants_ to touch Steve like this, and so he does.  Steve, eyes still a little distant, arches his body into Bucky’s touch. 

“Turn over, baby.” And because Bucky feels loose and easier after his orgasm, because he likes the way Steve’s skin feels under his hand, the way Steve’s body seems to want to reach for him without knowing why, because of the _want_ he still can’t place, he takes Steve’s carefully folded t-shirt from the stack of clothing and tucks it under Steve’s hips to keep the sensitive skin of his cock from being abraded by the rough concrete floor.  Steve shifts and settles, cock hard and pressing into his stomach, head resting on his folded hands.

Bucky stands long enough to get out of his boots and socks and shuck his pants, but tucks his dick back into his underwear.  His skin itches for the feel of Steve against him, but he still has a ways to go before he can bring Stevie home.  They’ll both be rewarded if Bucky can be patient.

Bucky straddles Steve’s hips, settles his weight onto Steve and runs his eyes up the long stretch of skin that is Steve’s back.  His index finger is threaded through the ring on the base of his knife and he spins it thoughtfully back and forth as he contemplates the planes of Steve’s muscles.  He grinds his hips down onto Steve, forcing Steve’s cock to move against the unforgiving floor. Steve exhales plosively and inhales sharply. His muscles shift and tighten.

“So good to me. I know it’s hard, baby. I’m gonna give you something else to focus on for a little bit, make it easy on you.  Stay with me, Stevie.  I know what you need.”  Bucky plants the point of the knife at the nape of Steve’s neck, presses down, and begins drawing the blade down the ridges of Steve’s spine with an aching slowness that’s offset by the sharp burn of parting flesh.  Blood rises to the surface in the wake of steel, beads up and stays, or breaks surface tension and slides down Steve’s sides, shiny and so bright compared to the white of Steve’s skin.  Goosebumps rise up to the surface of Steve’s skin and when he trembles under Bucky it’s the feel of the tension finally starting to seep out of his muscles. Bucky squeezes Steve’s hips between his thighs, shifts a little to get some friction on his cock and is glad he opted to keep his underwear for now.  Just the heat of Steve’s skin through the cotton is getting his dick interested again.  He rolls his hips and squeezes his thighs again, picks up the knife, and begins tracing the sweep and fall of Steve’s muscles, tracing latissimus dorsi and trapezius and obliques until Steve’s entire back is carefully rendered in fine, bright red splits, connected with long trails of red.  Bucky mutters softly while he works, words like, “Good,” and “beautiful,” and “stay.” He can tell Steve is losing himself in the flood of endorphins, in the sharp sting of the first cut and then the low throb that follows in its wake.  His muscles are finally relaxing and Bucky decides the anatomy lesson is over. He discards the knife carefully, sliding it across the floor and into the pile of his clothes. The noise is sharp and discordant after the soothing silence of Bucky working.  Steve tenses under him, but Bucky gives his hips a squeeze, shushing him softly. Then he grips Steve’s shoulders firmly in both hands and squeezes, pulling at muscle and flesh, splitting the cuts across Steve’s shoulders and upper back open again before letting go of Steve’s shoulders and digging his fingers in for a long, deep pull down Steve’s back, reopening wounds, smearing blood everywhere in his wake.

Steve shudders shifts restlessly under Bucky’s weight. 

“Feel that, Stevie? That’s real, that’s right now and I did that to you.  You’re so beautiful like this, baby.  So, so beautiful.” And Steve _moans_ at that.  Bucky knows what it feels like, overwhelmed with sensation until pleasure runs into pain and joins up, knows what it’s like to be burning up inside and out and to not even know what you want anymore.  He digs his fingers into Steve’s flesh and rubs, loosening muscles, tearing at cuts, touch unpredictably deep or feather-light.  Steve’s trying to rut against the floor now, even with Bucky’s entire weight pinning his hips, Steve’s still managing to rise and fall beneath him, giving Bucky’s dick an extra bit of friction against his ass every time Steve lifts his hips.

Bucky should— He should—  Bucky touches Steve’s face, leaving a smear of blood down his exposed cheek.  “Shh. I know, I know. Hold still for me, baby. We’re almost there.” Steve looks up and back over his shoulder at Bucky, face smeared with blood, eyes wide and mostly black pupil, only a thin ring of blue iris to be seen.

“Bucky, please. I ne—  I feel.  Please.” Steve tries to hold still which only results in more shaking.  Bucky gentles him with a hand on his aching, stinging back.  Steve presses into the touch.  Bucky pins Steve down firmly with his hand and gives him one more squeeze with his thighs before he stands. 

“Wait,” is all Bucky says. He strips out of his underwear, puts it in his clothing pile and retrieves a few packets from one of his pants pockets.  He resettles himself further down on Steve’s thighs and tears open one of the packets, spreading the sterile lubricating jelly on the fingers of his left hand. He has a faint grasp on a memory of his own cock, slick with blood and though he doesn’t know what happened before or after, he holds on to that memory as a warning.  Something twists inside him and Bucky buries the memory — he’s prepared this time and nothing else matters.  Right hand gentle on Steve’s hip, fingertips digging open the wounds that keep trying to close, two metal fingers trailing down Steve’s tailbone, picking up blood, leaving lube, sliding down, down into the crack of his ass, pressing gently against his hole, testing the give and then without any further preamble Bucky pushes _in_ and Steve shouts, tries to pull away but Bucky has him firm, and he waits, two fingers buried in Steve who’s trying to relax, internal muscles clenching tight but relaxing slowly, slowly and Steve sighs, mumbles something Bucky can’t or chooses not to hear.  It gives him an excuse to twist his fingers a little inside Steve. “What?”

“Like it,” Steve slurs. “Like it when it hurts, the way you make it hurt.  Just right. Only with you.”

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” Bucky’s voice is low and breathy, his own arousal making a reappearance.  Even with just his metal fingers buried in Steve, just getting back basic sensations of heat and pressure is enough to get his cock interested. He tries to imagine what it would feel like to have his flesh hand inside Steve, hot and wet and slick and soft. The thought drives blood straight down to his dick and makes his stomach twist in a feeling that is both hunger and arousal. Instead he jabs his metal fingers into Steve, knuckles digging at the tender skin of his perineum, fingers curling, pulling, hooking against that sweet, soft spot and pushing. Steve cries out, jerks erratically and Bucky smiles.  So sweet up inside, his Steve. 

Bucky pulls his fingers out so he can grab Steve’s hip, drag him to his knees, press his cock to the cleft of Steve’s ass and rub gently while he leans over Steve to nip at his neck, his ears, across his shoulders, leaving little bruises and swiping at the smears of blood with his tongue as he goes.  Steve’s panting now, little, “Hn hn hn,” breaths as Bucky rubs against him leaving Steve’s cock aching for friction.  Finally Bucky draws his hips back, lets his cock slip down the crack of Steve’s ass, gripping Steve’s hips hard enough to bruise as he lines up and pushes in to Steve in one quick, sharp thrust.  Steve stifles a cry into his forearm.  Steve’s ass is pressed firm against his pelvis and Steve is clenched wet and hot around the length of Bucky’s cock.  God, but he’s so perfect like this, hot and slick and soft and so, so tight around Bucky’s cock.  Bucky grinds his pelvis against Steve’s ass, working his cock around in Steve’s insides and held tight, so perfectly tight in the clutch of Steve’s body.

The sound Steve makes is one long, low moan that becomes a whispered chant.  “ _Oh_ fuckohfuckohfuck.”

Bucky unlocks his left hand from Steve’s hip and smiles at the bruises blooming there, some on top of lacerations that have since closed but are still tacky with blood. Steve’s pale skin is dusted with freckles and painted over in Bucky’s lurid red and purple handiwork. Bucky’s stung by the beauty of it, of _Steve_ , his beautiful, trusting Steve and has to bite his lip to stop himself from making a sound. Instead he silently, reverently presses a kiss to each bruise he can reach.  Steve goes perfectly still under him, but Bucky can _feel_ Steve’s heart hammering inside his body, every nerve in his cock hypersensitive where it’s pressed up inside Steve.

Bucky takes Steve by the shoulders, putting a graceful bow in his back and pinning him hard up against the cup of Bucky’s hips.  He holds Steve there, Steve whose shoulders have finally gone lax even at the tendons on his neck stand out and the muscles of his abdomen jump and twitch restlessly with arousal.  Bucky lips at the join of Steve’s neck and shoulder, then draws his hips back and slams forward into Steve at the same moment he bites down, _hard_ , on the muscle of Steve’s neck.  Steve shouts like he’s been gut-punched and his hands scrabble and scratch against the floor looking for something to hold on to.  But there’s nothing, _nothing_ but Bucky holding him, hurting him and heating him from the inside. He settles for taking his left hand, clapping it solidly over Bucky’s right on Steve’s shoulder.

“Yes, yes, yes, please, fuck, _Bucky_.”  Steve’s voice is hoarse, ragged; Bucky’s fucking the breath right out of him.  “N-nothing but you, Buck. Only always you.”

Bucky licks tenderly at the livid red bite mark rising on Steve’s skin.  His left hand slips off Steve’s shoulder, skims down his side and around the the front, grazing against Steve’s nipple.  Steve whines, and Bucky brushes against it again, then comes back and gives it a vicious little pinch.  Steve contracts around him, giving Bucky’s cock a delicious squeeze. Bucky lets his hand slip down and down until his fingers just brush the head of Steve’s cock. He’s soaked with his own precome and hot, as hot here on the outside as he is on the inside.  Bucky carefully wraps his fingers around Steve’s shaft and gives the head a swipe with his thumb, finally giving Steve some friction.

“Beautiful, so beautiful and so good for me.  C’mon, baby, let go. Let go for me. Let me have this.” Bucky slams his hips forward and grinds his cock hard into that sweet spot hiding inside Steve. Steve shouts, writhes back against Bucky and then Bucky can feel Steve’s cock in his hand swell impossibly harder and then twitch in his hand.  All of Steve’s muscles contract and flutter around Bucky’s cock but Bucky holds still, holds on, waits until the last sweet pulses of come die away and Steve is limp and trembling, Bucky holding the majority of his weight.

Bucky gently resettles Steve on the floor, retakes Steve’s hips in his hands and begins a slow grind into the lax, loosened muscles of Steve’s ass.  Steve sniffles, whimpers a little because it’s so much, _too_ much but it’s Bucky and Bucky always does right by him, so Steve relaxes as much as he can, lets the tears prick his eyes, because Bucky never gives him more than he can take. 

“I know baby,” Bucky’s saying. “It’s so much, but you’re so sweet like this, so perfect for me.  This’ll make you feel better darlin’, just…  I wanna…”

Steve twists and whimpers underneath Bucky.  “Yeah. Yeah, I want it, I want…” he slurs weakly against the skin of his own forearm. 

That’s what does it for Bucky, his Stevie overstimulated, fucked out and still begging, still begging for more.  Bucky pushes his way deep into Steve and gives him the last little bit, rubbing hard against Steve’s prostate.  Steve cries out, his body contracting weakly around Bucky with a few flutters of muscle. Bucky tips his head back and lets out a cry and then he’s coming, every muscle drawing up tight, his cock throbbing against Steve’s loose, hot insides.  Everything narrows down to one warm, rolling sensation that takes him over, leaves him gasping and breathless.  After a moment with his face pressed to Steve’s sweat-slick skin, Bucky pulls back leaving a trail of sticky white dripping out of Steve’s asshole. Steve whines when the cold air hits him and Bucky shushes him by putting two fingers just at the rim of Steve’s swollen, red hole, still working a little to close up.  Bucky presses the tip of his flesh index finger, just the gentlest touch against Steve’s reddened rim, dips inside just a little, enough to pick up a white smear of come.  He coaxes Steve to kneel up, his back pressed to Bucky’s chest and Bucky feeds him the little white dollop.  Steve laves at Bucky’s fingers, cleaning every last drop of and salt and blood off his skin.

Bucky’s lips move against the side of Steve’s neck, murmuring nonsense and dropping little kisses against Steve’s skin.  “You with me Steve?”

“Mmhmm.”

“C’mon. You need rest. We both do.  And ain’t neither of us gettin’ it down here on the concrete.”

Steve lets Bucky boost him to his feet and chivvy him out of the room.  Bucky leaves their clothes folded neatly on the floor. They won’t need them for what comes next. 

They walk together, Steve with his arm slung around Bucky’s shoulders, through the echoing hallways and down into cryo prep.  The techs are busy warming up the chair but Bucky waves them off.

“But protocol-“ one starts to protest.

Bucky refrains from punching him, but only just.  “Fuck protocol. Do it after-“  Bucky glances at Steve, who’s looking up at him, wide-eyed and biddable.  “After he wakes up.” Instead, Bucky helps Steve into one of the two cryotubes sitting side by side in the back of the lab. He arranges all of Steve’s limbs and steps up into the tube under the pretense of adjusting Steve’s neck. There, pressed chest to chest with Steve, Bucky leans forward and whispers quickly in Steve’s ear before kissing the tender spot at the curve of Steve’s jaw before quickly stepping away.

Bucky watches Steve and Steve watches Bucky until a blast of supercooled air hits Steve’s face, forcing him to close his eyes.  Bucky watches until Steve’s vitals stabilize and hold.  Then he flings himself into the chair.

“Take it,” he snarls. “Take it all.” They won’t, of course. They never do. They need asset Alpha’s particular skillset to keep asset Bravo in line — Bravo, who was so good at heart that even high voltage, physical torture and a vicious freeze-thaw cycle can’t undo his basic nature.  For that, they’ve had to use Alpha, who is more susceptible to HYDRA’s tactics and who, he thinks, was always a little more gray in the morality department — something they’ve never been afraid to leverage against him, using Bravo for the counterweight. The cannula slips into his vein and Alpha leans back so the metal restraints won’t pinch him. He knows there’s more to the story of Steve and Bucky, can see it sometimes in glimpses and flashes, but while they let him keep the sensations they took the actual memories they’re tied to. Alpha thinks that he would mourn if he had any idea what he’d lost.

Someone slips the rubber mouthguard between his teeth and Alpha sucks at it nervously. The generators spin up and the smell of ozone crackles in the air.  He doesn’t know exactly what they’ll take and what they’ll leave but he hopes when he wakes up they can be Alpha and Bravo again, seamless where they join with each other, undetectable and lethal in the field.  He doesn’t know who Steve and Bucky were, but he wishes he could let them rest in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: I fixed a few typos and spacing issues I found, and now that reveals are done I can point you to my [tumblr](http://lux-obscura.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi, yell about supersoldiers or cry about Bucky Barnes or anything else in that vein.


End file.
